“Sure. I wouldn’t mind a hot tea.”
After making a quick stop at my favorite little coffee shop, I give him directions to my secret spot. We pull up to a small park-like area, tucked between trees that are now barren from the late fall as it inches closer to winter. There’s a small bench that sits in the middle of it and it’s currently unoccupied.
“We can sit there,” I point out.
“Outside? But it’s cold. You hate the cold.”
“Yes, but staying in this car with you in close proximity is not a good idea. C’mon.” Before he has a chance to slide over his hood Dukes of Hazard style, I open my door and head straight for the bench.
Fuck. It’s as cold as an eskimo’s balls. But it beats the alternative which is fogging up the windows of his car with the libidinous heat that pours from his body.
He sits down next to me and I scoot over another couple of inches, needing the breathing room. Nico looks down at his coffee cup and clears his throat.
“So on the day that everything happened. You know,” I nod because I don’t need the horrible details again. “I called the guys to give Soba a heads up. I was worried how it could affect him. After I spilled my guts, he came clean about a secret of his own.”
I take a slow sip of my scalding tea to keep the words I want to screech from oozing out.
“I think I told you how the original plan was for the three of us to go to San Fran. There had been some talks with the front office and we thought it was just about done. We only needed to wait on that couch on draftnight for them to call our names. But when Soba got picked by the Rage, it sent me into a tailspin and subsequently brought me here. It brought me to you so I don’t have a single complaint.”
I start to pick at a hangnail on my thumb, yet another tactic to stay firm in my seat and not end up in his lap.
“Apparently the picks weren’t just some fluke. Soba went behind our backs, and the Rage made moves of their own to ensure they could draft him.”
“But why? I don’t understand.”
“For Scottie. He made all of these moves, potentially ruining our careers, all so he could chase a woman who didn’t even know who he was.”
“Huh? So then how did he know her?”
“Scottie was best friends with his older sister. When he was a teenager, he developed a bit of an obsession with her and that led him to screwing us all over. The Rage didn’t need two expensive receivers, but they did need a quarterback. He saw his green light that would get him to Scottie, and left his brothers in the dust. But now it’s all supposed to be okay because he got the girl, and San Fran is willing to make some trades to take us. But that kind of shit only happens in dreams.”
My jaw drops and I am gobsmacked. How could someone who calls himself a best friend do something so devious?
“You and Nik didn’t know?” He shakes his head and I simply can’t help it. I lay my hand on his in a comforting gesture. “I’m so sorry Nico. That’s horrible. What did Nik have to say about it?”
“I don’t know. I hung up the phone after telling him I would never play ball with him again, and haven’t answered one call or text from him since. I feel bad forleaving Papas hanging, but between that and you not talking to me, I don’t have the energy to do anything but sit in a dark room and wish I could turn back time.”
“But you said something about Nik, too. Does he have anything to do with the draft?” The steam from the tea warms my cold nose as it rises from the small opening in the lid.
“Papas. That’s a whole other clusterfuck.” He drops his head back against the bench, his eyes searching the sky for some type of answer.
And when he tells me what Nik did, to a degree of betrayal as Soba, I understand his reasoning for looking to the heavens. He’s begging for relief. His best friends betrayed him and he doesn't know how to handle his new reality.
I hear his voice crack and my brain kicks the stupid rules in the face and my arms wrap around his neck. He buries his head in my neck and squeezes me tight.
“In the blink of an eye, I lost everything I’ve ever known. My best friends destroyed my trust and everything I thought I knew to be true. But the worst of it all is losing you.” He sits up and looks deep into my eyes. “Do you know what it feels like to live every day without the beating of your heart? I’m a zombie walking around without any purpose except to get from point A to B in one piece. But I keep dropping parts along the way, and the only thing keeping me from falling into a dark hole is the hope that you might forgive me.”
A thick lump forms in my throat, blocking the wordsI forgive youfrom coming out. I’ve sat in silence for days, telling myself to quit punishing him for his actions before we were together. But how do I know what he says is the honest truth? Men will say anything to save themselves, and I have to do what I must to save myself. Even if thatmeans denying myself the happiness I so desperately want.
“I’m sorry this is all happening to you. Just give it some time. You and the Nickies will be tight as ever before.” The hope in his eyes fades, and I hate to be the one who clouds his sunshine but one of us needs to live in the present.
Nic rests his back against the bench and sags. Our thighs touch, our hands resting next to each other, and I turn my palm face up. Timidly, he takes it and grips it tight. His head lays on my shoulder and we sit, silently and holding hands, wondering if this is the last time we’ll touch one another.
Leaves rattle in the cool breeze, and on my shoulder I feel a small puddle gather. I don’t look because it will break me, but I know they’re the tears of a man who feels like his world is crumbling around him.
I may not be the one who can love him right now, but I can be the one who holds him up.
35
